


Bank the Fire at Dawn

by replicanon



Series: AkuRoku Week 2019 [4]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: AkuRoku Week 2019, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Image, Death from Old Age, Dreams and Nightmares, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Growing Old, M/M, Mentioned Past Kairi/Naminé, Non-Explicit Sex, Physically Unaging Character, Post-Canon, Present Tense, Prompt Fic, Self-Reflection, Stream of Consciousness, Timeskips, Vague Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 14:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20175925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/replicanon/pseuds/replicanon
Summary: How many times is it now? How many times has he said goodbye?





	Bank the Fire at Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Time to celebrate AkuRoku Week 2019! My prompt for the day: lazy afternoons // starry nights. Writing this made me feel both satisfied and empty. Sort of a weird style, but I think it works for what I wanted to do.
> 
> If you're shy, copying a fic url into a private/incognito window/tab means you can leave guest kudos without logging out in your regular windows/tabs. Typo corrections appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

_Axel knows it's a dream._  
  
_ He knows but it doesn't change anything. The lazy afternoon skies still feel seem like they're bleeding. It's endless red spilling over all that's gold, staining the world. Below, Twilight Town is silent. There's no birds, no wind, no smoke from the trams. The sun is burning._  
  
_ Roxas's head is in his lap, body still. It's a precarious position, up here on the Clock Tower, but Axel knows in his heart it doesn't matter. Not now, not anymore._  
  
_ Blue eyes look up at him. They're tired, maybe, and just a little sad. Inside them Axel can see the scars; the lines where people cut him apart to put someone else back together, all the lies he was told and the life he was denied. Something in Axel reaches up out of the pit of his stomach to strangle his heart—the part of him that knows how big a role he played in it. In everything that happened to Roxas._  
  
_ There's nothing he can do. All he's got is this little bit of time, and all he can do his stroke Roxas's hair back from his face, watch as blue eyes water. Tears trickle down and he chokes on his anger, because Roxas should be the one crying, the one grieving but it's him and he can't control himself. _  
  
_ This brings back too many memories. He's wearing his gloves—his whole Organization ensemble. He hates it, hates what it means to him right now, to be up here dressed like this and watching Roxas die. His throat burns. He wants to be sick. He can't be sick._  
  
_ Roxas fades, baubles of light streaming from his body. Axel keeps stroking his head until it's all gone, and then in an act of folly, keeps stroking the air. It doesn't help but he can't stop._  
  
_ How many times is it now? How many times has he said goodbye?_

* * *

  
  
Axel starts, whole bed jostling with the motion. He blinks, sees nothing back the dark ceiling of their room in Twilight Town. Beside him, a huff. Roxas must be stirring. He wants to apologize, but more than that, he wants him awake.  
  
"Babe?"  
  
A garbled, "Yeah?"  
  
"I—" It sounds stupid the moment it's on his tongue. _I had a bad dream_. But it's true, and it scares him. "It was a dream, I just...sorry babe I'll just—"  
  
But Roxas just rolls over and wraps an arm around him. "What was it about?"  
  
The words catch in his throat for a different reason this time, but he tries.  
  
"You."  
  
The arm around him stiffens. Roxas knows. It's not the first time Axel's had this dream and they both know it won't be the last. At this point it's all a question of who Axel sees dying in his sleep, or what he feels most guilty about when it happens.  
  
"I'm here," Roxas says. "You don't have to say goodbye to me again."  
  
Almost, Axel says the same back. He doesn't. The worst, most selfish parts of him strangle the words—he shouldn't lie after all.

He'll never leave Roxas but...one of them has to go first.  
  
He doesn't want Roxas to suffer for it, but Roxas...Roxas has his identity. Roxas knows who he is now, and more than that, he's at a place now where he can change and grow however he likes without someone telling him who he has to be, what he has to do.  
  
Loss will break his heart, but Roxas wants to live. Wants to be.  
  
Axel's just happy to be remembered.  
  
So he just snuggles in closer and whispers a_ thank you_, and they both go back to sleep.

* * *

  
  
_It's another afternoon. It's always that, or endless starry skies. Axel loves them both when he's awake, but when he's asleep all he wants to see his blue, blue skies and rainy days and anything that isn't this._  
  
_ Roxas is standing before him this time, floating on the air. Axel wants to reach out to him but can't, won't. His body refuses to step out after him even though it doesn't matter, it's just a dream. He can't fall and if he does who cares? The worst that will happen is he'll wake up._  
  
_ But if he stays still—stays here— he has to watch Roxas die._  
  
I'm sorry_, Roxas says, though the words seem wrong to Axel. _If there's no one left then there'll be no one to remember. I'm sorry.  
  
"That's not it!"_ He screams, but it feels like nails are in his throat. They scratch and burn and he knows it's because he's a liar, or at least half way to one. It's so much more than his fear of being forgotten, fading to nothing—but it's that too, and he can't deny it._  
  
It's okay Axel_, Roxas smiles, and he's disappearing again and Axel still won't move. _It's okay. I'll remember you. I don't love everything about you, but this selfish part I do.  
  
_ Then he's gone and Axel's alone._  
  
"Idiot. How can you remember me if you aren't here?"

* * *

  
  
Their visits to Even are always a little awkward. Axel's done his bit to patch things up between them best he can, but some things can't be helped. Even gets the jitters when people call him 'Axel', but no one calls him 'Lea' anymore, no one except Isa. Even Axel doesn't—it just doesn't feel right, not when he spends all his time with Roxas, who'll never get the choice to take his other name.  
  
But they're okay now. They've figured it out. Even asked him the first time they were alone not to snap his fingers around him, ever. His only other request was that he, Axel, and Sora should never be in a room together with no one else—alone with Axel, Even copes fine, but when Sora's around things must feel too close to that day for comfort.  
  
Is it weird? Maybe. But Axel can't stop crying about his dreams, and he doesn't think he has the right to judge someone he's murdered for their idiosyncrasies anyway.  
  
There's five of them today. Aeleus and Ienzo are tinkering in the corner, muttering about this and that. Even's got Roxas up on the table, surveying his replica body with a critical eye. Axel sits off to the side. He's not stupid, but there isn't much he can do to help with this.  
  
It's not like Roxas is a robot or anything, but maybe it'd be easier if he was. Even's mixing of magic and science goes just a little over his head. He knows bits and pieces—that the replica bodies will last a long time for instance—but there's other questions they should've asked that they didn't. Still haven't.  
  
But Axel's not stupid. If there's something you've got to do, better to act sooner than later.  
  
So while Even's measuring Roxas's vitals, Axel asks, "How long do these bodies last anyway? Like exactly? We know they don't age, but do they have a 'use by' date?"  
  
Even and Roxas look his way, the former in thought, the latter concerned. There's silence until Even finally says, "So long as they're properly maintained a replica body should last several lifetimes before they fail. Even with improper maintenance they're made to endure. I'm sure he could outlive both you and I by several centuries if he wanted to."  
  
Roxas pales, and it's at that moment Even realizes he probably said the wrong thing. Even Axel feels queasy.  
  
"I..." Roxas tries, stops, tries again. "Do I have to?"  
  
"What?" Even asks.  
  
"Live that long?"  
  
"Well no. I figured it might be useful to have a manual shutdown of sorts. This new type was designed so that if you wanted to preserve the heart and soul you could, transplanting them to another body while shutting the original down, though it's something I'd only ever do in an emergency—too risky. But if you didn't want to preserve anything, well..."  
  
It's moments like these Axel remembers the Replica Project was a thing Even started as Vexen, when killing a Replica would've been much less of a moral dilemma for him. Axel's almost positive in fact, that the manual shutdown's always been there, it's just the 'transplant' thing that's new. For all his morbid thoughts though, Roxas looks relieved.  
  
"How does it work?"  
  
"You input a certain amount of time and then when you want to start the countdown, it starts. I used a lot of very fine magic to make it work—you won't set it off with a silly momentary death wish, and you can deactivate it if you really need too."  
  
"You can customize the time?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Roxas pauses. "Axel?"  
  
"Yeah babe?"  
  
"What's eight times thirteen?"  
  
Axel can see the answer's already on Even's tongue, and probably Aeleus and Ienzo's too, but they all respect the fact it's Axel whom Roxas has asked. _Ah let's see—eight times ten is eighty, times eleven, eighty-eight, times twelve, ninety-six..._  
  
"One hundred and four."  
  
"Okay," Roxas nods. "Sounds good."  
  
"Is that how many years you want to live? Because I'll need to calculate just how old you'd be considered now and—"  
  
"No," Roxas says, "Not one hundred and four years from now, and not one hundred and four years from the beginning of my life. Days. One hundred and four days."  
  
Axel's heart stops. "Roxas..."  
  
"It's not for now," is all Roxas says, "it's for later, and it's enough for what I'll need it for when it comes time for my clock to start."

* * *

  
  
_Another afternoon. The clock behind Axel is chiming. It won't shut up—never shuts up now, just goes on and on and on._  
  
_ The sun is bleeding again today, red fire all along the horizon. He feels like that's something worth worrying about, but no one cares, not even him. The people in the streets below pay no heed to anything. Not him, not the inferno, and not the body in his arms._  
  
_ Roxas is sleeping. It's certainly one way to go. Axel always wondered what it'd be like to die that way—just go to bed in the evening and never wake up. With all the naps he takes he could do it at any time of day. Maybe that works better for him, because he can't stand the thought of dying at night—or on a twilit afternoon._  
  
_ But he isn't dying right now. It's Roxas again. How many times has he had to see this? Axel's had to watch him walk away, scream at his empty self in a simulacrum and then slip into shadows knowing that he's failed and Roxas is going to disappear._  
  
_ Then he has to watch him fade out one last time, side-by-side on the Clock Tower. _

_He wants to scream. All he can do is cry._  
  
It's probably for the best,_ Roxas says. _I'm kind of tired anyway.  
  
"Tired of what, me?"  
  
Not you,_ he laughs, the sound ringing in Axel's ears. _Me. I'm tired of me, Axel.  
  
_ The words echo in Axel's skull, make a horrific cacophony with the Clock Tower chimes and Roxas's dying laugh. It shakes him to the core.  
_

* * *

  
  
His stomach drops when he sees it.

It's not a special occasion, he's just getting ready for another lazy day. His hair's a mess and there's probably bags under his eyes and he owes himself a little tender loving care, and those are his thoughts when he turns on the lights and looks in the mirror.  
  
And—there. Just around his eyes.  
  
Wrinkles.  
  
It's a thing he's been avoiding even though he's known it all this time. They go see Even and his hair's already silver. Ienzo's matured, and Aeleus is somehow smaller, a little more bent and lined. The last time Sora and the gang came to visit they were all shaken by the fact that he'd grown—not taller, not ever, but his face was a little harder even if his eyes were still those same sweet blues.  
  
It's not just them either—it's almost everyone. Axel's seen it happening to Isa—moaning and complaining about his first gray like it's the end of the world.  
  
It is the end of the world.  
  
Axel touches the lines, feels his stomach roiling in response to what it symbolizes. He thinks of Roxas and Xion and Naminé, forever young and smiling and suddenly he's bent over the toilet, heaving up nothing air, sweating like mad.  
  
He must've made a racket though because Roxas is at his side—a glance back at the locked door shows it clinging weakly to its hinges.  
  
"Axel? Are you okay?"  
  
And he's not, he's so not okay. Because it's been fine, if kind of awkward, for the past ten years but now it's hitting him, really hitting him what it means that he's in love with this man, in love with Roxas. Roxas is going to be bright and beautiful forever and Axel...  
  
Roxas shouts as he clambers to his feet, but Axel doesn't stop until he's back before the mirror. His hands shake as they touch his face, and, _fuck Roxas can see them Roxas can see them Roxas can see them—_  
  
"Axel?"  
  
His eyes sting and suddenly he's crying, crouching on the bathroom floor. From the outside he must look like a vain idiot, but it's really not that—he doesn't even look bad—it's just something else, terror knocking in his chest.  
  
Time goes by and he's scared, so scared.  
  
Will Roxas even want him when he gets old? When his body's still bright and new and Axel's is a dried out husk, aching and tired and ugly.  
  
Will he want Roxas to want him, or forget him—forget the him of _now_, anyway, and remember him when he was burning, young and fresh and not _this_.

Will Roxas still want him when he realizes he's going to die?

Will Roxas still want him when he realizes he'll have to be the one to say goodbye?  
  
It's just a wrinkle. Some part of him's still there enough to shake his head at the fact he's crying on the bathroom floor at nine in the morning over a wrinkle, but it's not that—it's just not.  
  
"Axel what's wrong?" Roxas asks, and his hands are tugging Axel's away from his face and _fuck,_ Axel doesn't want him to see.  
  
_Please don't see._  
  
"Axel...?"  
  
But the fear in Roxas's voice has him guilty. He can't hide it, especially since no matter how much makeup he applies it's always going to show through in the end. Unless he dies young, dies now, he's going to have to accept it.  
  
He expects Roxas to laugh at him when he gestures to the new lines on his face.  
  
But there's no laughter—and oh sure, there'll probably be some later when Axel looks back at this moment and goes bright red, rolls his eyes at his own melodramatic tendencies, but for now? Roxas cups his face, thumbs running over the lines around his eyes.  
  
"Wow, hot," he whispers, and kisses them both, then pulls him in for a hug.  
  
Axel collapses into his arms and feels, if not that much better, at least a little more at ease.

* * *

  
  
_It's one of the starry night dreams this time. _

_Roxas's already scattered into darkness and light, but Axel still hears him everywhere, still catches his image reflecting in the sky. He reaches out, but though he seems so close he's always just out of reach._  
  
_ His body's still young in his dreams. He can see his reflection in the ocean waters, running on the grass and the sand of the shore. It stretches out endlessly, up above and down below, and he knows the stars, the lights here are beyond counting—knows he'll never see them all._  
  
_ Frantic. It's the only word for his heart when he realizes that. How many lights will burst and fade, how many memories? He can't forget, won't forget. All his lights and he refuses to get one. Not any of them; not Isa, not Xion, not Naminé or Sora or anyone else, and certainly not Roxas._  
  
_ But even as he thinks it the sky shifts and there's no way for him to know which lights were there a moment before, which lights still glitter and which are gone._  
  
"I can't lose you again!"_ He shouts it, hears it echo over still waters. _"I can't say goodbye again!"  
  
_ But there's no reply. Roxas is only light now, and Axel can feel the water behind him rising._

* * *

  
  
He can't quite help the makeup he puts on. It's become something of a ritual, dabbing around his eyes and trying to plump up his cheeks. A part of him mocks his vanity, but it's hard enough when he and Roxas go out together as is. He doesn't need age lines making it worse.  
  
Most of their friends are tied up with someone who ages like them, but Axel isn't. Roxas's mind ages perfectly fine, but his body is what it is and Axel feels pathetic when he stands next to him in public. It hurts, and he knows it's hurting Roxas too, because Axel won't kiss him unless they're somewhere private. He can't even touch him, really.  
  
His fingers shake as he covers up more wrinkles in the mirror. Sometimes he still cries about it, but he prefers to do it alone. Roxas hates it. He's never angry though, just upset that Axel tries to hide it.  
  
His face, his fears, everything.  
  
Roxas doesn't like his obsession with makeup either, but he won't tell him not to do it. Still there's always shame in his stomach when Roxas catches him in the act. There's never scolding words or anything, just that sad, sad look in his eyes.  
  
"No matter what you do, I'm going to remember all of you," he says. "This face, and the one you bring to bed every night."  
  
"Maybe I should start wearing makeup to bed then," Axel jokes, but the look on Roxas's face makes the laughter die in his throat.  
  
They go out to eat. If it's hard to be with Roxas in public, it's easy to be with Isa. He's got wrinkles now too, and his hair's more silver-gray than blue. Axel can't tease him too much anymore, not with so many streaks of white growing through his red, but it's a little less painful when he gets to spend time with someone who ages like he does.  
  
But then there's Xion. She and Roxas and Naminé all look the same. Axel knows deep down that's part of the reason Kairi and Naminé broke up—too much discomfort on both ends. They're still friends, but it's still a little uncanny when Sora and Kairi sit next to Roxas and Naminé and Xion, and Axel can see just how many things were supposed to change in the latter three that never will.  
  
"No one judges you, you know," Isa tells him over the top of his tea cup.  
  
"Really?" He snorts.  
  
"Yes. Even said himself that replica mind's age normally, maybe even a little faster than our own. Roxas might even be older than you now if that's true."  
  
"But you can't blame strangers for looking at us weird."  
  
"Hence why we made sure Roxas got an ID that says he's an adult," Isa laughs, and Axel kicks him in the shin. But it does help a little, to see how Isa still looks charming—he never thought his friend would get laugh lines of all things, but things have only got better for him as he's aged and Axel's happy. Really happy.  
  
And for all his fears he's glad to make a few more memories with his friends—all of them. So when Xion and Naminé and Roxas sit at the table with the rest of them, playing games and talking loudly, Axel lets his anxieties go and just has fun.  
  
_Don't forget me. Don't leave me._ It echoes like a mantra in his head. Some days it makes him want to hide his face, but other days...  
  
Well he hasn't aged too poorly so far.

* * *

  
  
_Axel runs down the hill, afternoon sunset dead behind him. Up ahead it's all violet and indigo and deep navy blue, black trickling in at the edges. Amidst it all are the stars, and down beyond the shore—_  
  
_ Roxas drifts in a boat on the water. He's barely conscious, can't even speak. Axel splashes out after him, places fingers over his lips._  
  
_ Still breathing, but not for long._  
  
_ Axel walks him out to sea. Roxas doesn't say anything, simply smiles and reaches weakly out with his left hand. Axel holds it. Their fingers twining is the only thing that keeps him sane._  
  
I want you to let me go, Axel.  
  
_ Axel doesn't want to. His knuckles go white with how hard he's holding on._

* * *

  
  
Axel doesn't age as well as he hopes.  
  
They stop having sex by the time his hair is fully white. It's not Roxas's fault—he's interested, willing. Even Axel still wants it, despite all the people saying it's normal for him to no longer be able to get it up. It's a convenient excuse, so sometimes he pretends it's the truth. It isn't.  
  
The truth is much sillier.  
  
He wakes up much earlier than Roxas does—he's old enough now that napping during the day no longer seems lazy, and he can get all his sleep then—and goes to the mirror. It's not quite bile in his throat when he looks at himself, but there is something unsettling in seeing how deeply age has changed him.  
  
He's softer than he used to be, flabby in places he wishes he wasn't. Somehow he's also bonier, just as inconvenient. No matter how fit he keeps there's still pieces of him that don't work or look the way they once did. He pinches loose skin and scowls, knows he can't hide the lines and bags appearing on him any longer.  
  
He's tried dying his hair red a few times, but Roxas just pouts and says he likes the white. It's not Roxas's choice, but he's tired of putting in the extra effort to look good anyway.  
  
Axel's old, and damn it, but maybe he's finally allowed to not worry about his appearance.  
  
Except...  
  
The last time he and Roxas had sex was almost a year ago. Axel had caught sight of them going at it in their bedroom mirror and felt viscerally ill. There'd still been red in his hair then, but that didn't change the fact that he had rapidly gone from someone he recognized to—whoever _that_ was in his reflection.  
  
Roxas hasn't liked it though. It's especially awkward when he presses against him at night, obvious arousal grinding into Axel's hips. Axel refuses to do anything about it, refuses to touch or look for fear of being drawn in, for fear of giving Roxas a chance to _see_ him.  
  
But one morning it all comes out anyway, when Roxas, fed up and horny, wakes up and catches him before he can go hide in the bathroom. Their talk is uncomfortable and he can't look Roxas in the eyes as it all spills out.  
  
Roxas is Roxas though, and Axel knows what's going to happen the moment he hears the annoyed grumble escape his throat.  
  
More than that he knows he's going to agree to it, because he wants Roxas, desperately. His whole body is alight with desire—too much for his age, he thinks.  
  
Roxas disagrees.  
  
There's heat in his stomach when Roxas pushes him down, but it catches and coils with fear. Axel wants to cry out when he realizes Roxas is only undressing him—still clothed himself—the understanding of what's to come hitting him like a brick.  
  
This is going to be about him, his body. It terrifies him. It thrills him.  
  
"Roxas I'm—"  
  
"I love you," Roxas says, "I want you." He pauses, and maybe it should seem silly that he's gone still, left Axel's pants halfway down his thighs, but it doesn't. His eyes are so sad. "I know I don't look it but I have grown old Axel. I've grown old _with _you." His voice breaks, as does Axel's heart when he continues with, "I just want to see you, be with you, show you all of me but I feel so...juvenile when I do. But I have to try, right? Because I want you. I want us."  
  
It's then that something occurs to Axel. Maybe Roxas hates it too, them being like this, but not for the reasons he's always thought.  
  
Maybe what Roxas hates is his tiny, youthful body. Maybe he hates the way people look at him and won't take him seriously, when he's someone who's been fighting since the day he was 'born'. Maybe now they've both been alive several scores of years he's tired of being trapped where he is, as he is, his identity decided once again by those around him, those who won't listen to him.

They've both been carrying so much pain.  
  
Axel takes a breath and lets it all go.  
  
He loses himself in the feeling of Roxas touching him, lips trailing kisses down his neck and chest. All his wrinkles, all his flab, any spots or places where his bones stick out he forgets and instead embraces the fact that Roxas loves him, that Roxas might even find him attractive like this. That Roxas _makes_ him feel attractive like this.  
  
Maybe he doesn't need the red in his hair anymore. Maybe it's okay for it to burn down to a smoulder, white ashes in its place.  
  
And yes it's embarrassing the way he twitches and whimpers and writhes. He's sure Roxas is just as embarrassed when Axel drags him down and runs his hands all over him, but it's okay. When they rock their bodies together and come it feels right, so right, and Axel doesn't think he can ever forget how lovely Roxas looks—and it's his face, yes, but more than that it's his eyes.  
  
He can see all the years they've spent together and maybe, just maybe, Axel's been an idiot all this time, ignoring the years in those eyes.

He doesn't mean to say it out loud, but he does.  
  
"Of course you've been an idiot all this time," Roxas laughs, buries his face where Axel's neck and shoulder meet. "It's okay though. I love you, idiot."  
  
Axel runs a wrinkled hand through sunshine blond hair and murmurs, "Me too."

* * *

  
  
_Axel makes the whole trek this time, carries Roxas's body down from the Clock Tower and away from the dying sun, out to the starry beach. He understands, he thinks, though he's not sure everything's meant to make sense._  
  
That sounds right_, Roxas whispers. _It's a dream after all_._  
  
_ His lips quirk, and though his heart is far from light there's a little less pain this time. He's coming to terms, maybe, with everything about them. All the things he's frightened of, all the things that have happened to them. Who they were, who they are, who they will be._  
  
"How much of this is just me scared of what's coming?"  
  
All of it, but that's fine. Everyone's scared of goodbyes.  
  
_ He lowers Roxas's body into the little boat and lets it sail, doesn't stalk it out into the water this time. Everything is beautiful, and even if he can't count or see all the lights he knows they're there, knows that if he brushes them by something bright and unexpected will spill out all over him._  
  
_ Fire streams from him then, and he calls a great wave of it up from the water. It burns right through Roxas's ship, renders both it and his body to glittering ashes._  
  
_ Then it dies just as fast, leaving nothing but the stars and the inky black sea._  
  
_ Axel's legs shake and he falls, wrist-deep in water and—there, his reflection. It's young still, who he was back then, but he can see the age in his eyes. Fires flickering, ready to go._  
  
_ And then there's Roxas behind him, the same young face, the same old eyes, and he kneels behind Axel and holds him._  
  
"I'm so scared Axel,"_ he says. _"You helped me become who I am, helped me figure it all out. You taught me so much, and then you let me go, faded into the dark and...ever since I came back, you've been by my side, watching as I found myself, helping, guiding, loving..."  
  
I'm sorry,_ Axel murmurs. _I can't stay.  
  
"I know. But I'll remember you. I'll make sure everyone remembers you. Not just for who you were to me, but to everyone. To yourself."  
  
_ Axel doesn't say anything, just leans into Roxas's embrace and watches, in the water, where smoke curls off his reflection._

* * *

  
  
It starts small.  
  
It starts with a cough, in fact, but Axel knows what it is. The cough sticks around, the shivers. Isa comes around sometimes and he's shaky too, but steadier. Axel guesses he's the unlucky one, caught something he's not quite fit enough to heal from anymore.  
  
He knows then that even all the magic in the world can't stop this.  
  
It's when he starts struggling to move around the house without toppling over he figures he might need to start getting ready for it though, like proper ready. Paperwork and goodbyes and little things to see him through.  
  
His friends come to visit. Xion and Naminé still look young as ever, though they've been talking to Ienzo about exchanging their current bodies for something older. It's not really an emergency for them, Axel knows, but Even and Aeleus aren't around now, and Ienzo's the only one left with direct knowledge of how to do it.  
  
"There are apprentices, of course, but we'd be more comfortable with Ienzo," Xion murmurs.  
  
Of his friends whom have aged and are still around, it's almost a little frightening to see them with their own whites and grays. Sora's somehow still exuberant as ever, and he and Ventus make a din all by themselves when everyone gathers in the little dining room.  
  
Axel doesn't mind, but he does appreciate the peace when it's just him and Roxas again. _I really am old, hah_.  
  
Roxas...doesn't say much. Late at night he snuggles close. When he cries Axel no longer pretends he can't hear it and drags him over. There's not much warmth left in his body, but it's enough. Sometimes he cries too.  
  
"I'm sorry," Axel says one night, when Roxas finally stops sobbing into his shirt, "I'm sorry I'm going when I know you'll miss me."  
  
"I will," Roxas whispers, voice cracking. "I'll miss you so much."  
  
"But you'll remember me?"  
  
"I'll make sure everyone does, got it memorized?"  
  
Axel laughs, and even if it hurts every bone in his body he's glad he's still got enough strength left to do it.  
  
When he falls asleep he does it tangled in Roxas, and he's content.

* * *

  
  
_It's neither a lazy afternoon nor a starry night this time. Axel sits upon a hill somewhere. The grass is green and the morning sun is pale but lovely. The sky isn't bleeding or burning. Everything's quiet. There's birds, probably._  
  
_ Footsteps. He knows them. It's not surprise when Roxas sits beside him._  
  
"You're young again,"_ he says._  
  
Flattery?_ Axel asks._  
  
"Just observation. You know I think you're cute no matter what you look like."_ Roxas's cheeks go pink._  
  
I won't tell the real you you said that,_ Axel laughs._  
  
"He says it all the time anyway."  
  
_ Axel hums but can't find it in him to answer._  
  
_ They sit together on the hill watching the eternal sunrise._  
  
I was so scared of saying goodbye,_ he says._  
  
"I know,"_ Roxas says, _"but it's time."  
  
_ Axel closes his eyes and feels himself fade in the morning light._

* * *

  
  
He knows it's time when he wakes up. Birds—there are definitely birds. He can barely see. Everything's hazy, dark around the edges. Still he manages,  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
And to his left, "Dawn."  
  
A laugh wells up but never makes it out. It's genuine though. He's never been happier to know that he won't be dying on a twilit afternoon or at night. He loves them, and he hates them, refuses to stain the reality with his dreams.  
  
But morning. Morning seems right. It's a good time for a nap, really, just when you should be getting up. _This'll be a sleep in to put all my other sleep in's to shame. A permanent vacation for one._

For one. The thought aches and eases.  
  
"I'm...going Roxas."  
  
"I know. I've already called for help but I...figured this was it."  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
"Not your fault." There's a press of wet lips to his brow. They're so soft, so sweet. Axel lets himself lean into them, and the soothing hand on his cheek.  
  
Everything hurts, but he won't say it out loud.  
  
"I'm gonna miss you," he says instead, "but I want you to stay here."  
  
"I'll stay for a while," Roxas murmurs, "but I'll be along soon. I just have to make sure everything's organized on this end, set it all right, make sure we're remembered, y'know? Not that anyone could forget us."  
  
"Make sure you do a couple of fun things without me," he wheezes, "You'll need some stories to tell when you arrive. Gonna be boring without you."  
  
"Alright. Fair enough. Make sure there's a party waiting for me when I get there."  
  
They're silent for a bit, and Axel knows Roxas is crying. He can feel the tears against his face, even though he's so, so quiet and still. With what little strength he has left he lifts an arm and touches him, and that's when Roxas starts sobbing aloud.  
  
He calms down before the end though. Axel can make out the daylight now, pale yellow and blue and gray through the windows.  
  
He smiles, says nothing. Can't.  
  
Everything gets dizzier and darker, and even Roxas starts to fade. His joy, his sorrow, his memories, everything.  
  
Still he feels that kiss again, and as he slips away, fire banked at dawn, he hears,  
  
"Just one hundred and four days to go before we never need goodbye again."


End file.
